Prison Isle
by Lafidelle
Summary: He shook his head, a small chuckle on his lips, "That's how things work around here," he said, "Guilty unless proven innocent. As far as they're concerned, you did it; end of story." AU
1. Bad Beginnings

**A/N: **_I just wanted to add in a brief summary here, for those of you who like to know what a story's about before reading - this is an AU (Alternate Universe) story, set in modern times. It stars Ike Greil, a normal guy who just graduated from High School and decided to take a trip to Ethiopia to celebrate with his buddy Pika(chu). Long story short, Ike runs into some trouble, and it doesn't look like he'll be out of it for a while._

_Other main/important characters will include Marth, Meta Knight, Samus, Wolf, Lucario, and possibly others. Rated T for violence and such a little later on._

* * *

He hadn't been doing anything wrong. He had simply been walking down the street when the loud sound of gunfire assaulted his ears. Naturally, he had figured that it had nothing to do with him, but as the blasts grew louder, he'd began to sweat a little. Surely it was not his problem, but if they were headed his way, then it could quickly become one.

Of course, he had never expected anything like this.

He hadn't been expecting officers dressed in black to show up in the streets in huge groups, brandishing massive guns and yelling at the locals in their native tongue.

He hadn't been expecting them to stop people from leaving the area, and to search anyone and everyone in the immediate vicinity.

And he certainly hadn't been expecting to be tackled to the ground as soon as an officer spotted him, shoved hard into the gravel while a pair of manacles was forced onto his wrists.

He hadn't expected to get arrested. But sometimes, the least expected thing is the first to happen, and Ike Greil learned that the hard way.

The young man suppressed a shiver, remaining silent as they hauled him towards the small car parked in the middle of the road. The cuffs rubbed against his bare wrists, which was more painful then it sounded, but he barely noticed this – or the scrapes from being forced to the ground – as his mind was currently elsewhere. _Why the heck are they arresting me?_

Having already watched these same officers pounding people into the ground multiple times since his arrival, Ike decided it best not to resist – he would be arrested either way, and he figured he would rather be detained in one piece than in many.

He had been warned that things like this happened here.

"_It's a third world country, Ike,"_ his father had told him, _"There's no telling what could happen."_

Story after story he had been told, by friends, family… about the numerous issues and situations that one could get tangled up in while visiting such a country, but still he insisted. A newly graduated high school student, he had thought it a neat idea to travel across the world with his best friend, who went by "Pika", but they had never dreamt that anything could go wrong.

"Maybe splitting up for the day _was_ a bad idea…" Ike said under his breath, earning him a rough slap from the man pushing him.

"Shut up," he spat, and the force from the sudden blow knocked Ike off his feet, which earned him another hard kick in the back. He quickly climbed to his feet, and the man in black shoved him towards the vehicle.

Ike scanned the crowd for something, anything, that was recognizable. Anything that could help, but he didn't really know what he was looking for. The only thing he could be sure of within miles was Pika, but he wasn't here right now.

He was utterly **alone**.

The officer grabbed hold of him, and shoved him forcefully into the car. The door was slammed shut behind him, and he could hear through the thin metal the various shouts and calls of the cops and citizens outside. Of course, they weren't speaking his language, so he didn't understand a word anyone was saying. Wasn't English supposed to be the primary tourist language here? _Someone_ had to speak it!

He didn't have the time however, to find anyone who could, as the next minute, two of the officers climbed into the front seats of the car, and started up the engine, pulling away from the gathered crowds, and into the city.

Ike had already had a chance to explore the "downtown" of the area, and though it held nothing on the cities where he was from, he had found it quite interesting. Of course, it would've been much nicer to go through it again _not_ in the back of a police car, but he didn't appear to have that choice to make, and so he kept his mind busy by staring out the window. It felt like they had been driving for hours, though, until they arrived at what he assumed was the police station. As soon as they arrived, the two policers hopped out of the front, walking into the building and leaving Ike behind to shift in his seat and feel nervous. After what felt like yet another eternity, the double doors at the front of the building swung open, and two different men also dressed in black came out, heading for the car with clear intentions. They reached the car, and the taller guy, a big ape of a man, punched in a code and pulled the door open. He stuck his beefy arm inside and grabbed Ike by the collar of his shirt, catching him off guard and yanking him out of the car. He hit the ground with considerable force, and he grunted.

The smaller man, a chimp-like being, carefully helped Ike to his feet, scowling at the bigger and saying something in the country dialect.

The bigger man, whose nametag read _D. Kong_, roughly pulled Ike from the smaller's grasp, spitting something back in the same language. His voice was much more intimidating than the small man's high pitched one, and Ike tensed up at his touch. Between the two of them, Ike was "escorted" into the rundown building. The officers talked the entire way down the hall, through many doors and many twists and turns, but Ike didn't understand a word of it, and soon gave up even trying.

"Hey!" he looked up when the big man hit him in the back, roughly, but not too hard, and he noticed that they had stopped in front of a small door, "Listen up!"

_Oh, so they _can_ speak English._ For some reason, this didn't feel as comforting as he had thought it would.

"What's yer name?" The man demanded, and Ike found himself shrinking away from his hard gaze.

"I-Ike Greil." _Great, a stutter. That was manly, way to show 'em Ike._

"Greil…" The big man considered this, "That's the name Aran gave us, ain't it little buddy?" The smaller man nodded,

"Yup, that's it DK."

"Humph." The big man – DK – said nothing beyond that, but opened up the door and shoved Ike through. Without his hands to break his fall, he hit into the concrete floor headfirst, and he rolled onto his back, screwing his eyes shut.

"Unhhh…"

"Hey, you okay?" The smaller man sounded concerned, and Ike opened his eyes to find him leaning over him, "I think you hurt him, DK."

"I think I don't care," DK spat, "He'll live. Now c'mon, I gotta lock it up."

Pursing his lips, the smaller man gave Ike one more look over before turning to follow his partner. Ike pushed himself up into a sitting position, ignoring his pounding head, and called out to the little man,

"No, wait!" The man hesitated, and Ike heard a growl coming from the doorway, but he ignored it best he could. The small cop turned around,

"Yes?"

"W-what's going on?" Ike's head was throbbing, but he needed answers, "I didn't do anything! I… where am I?"

"This is the detainment center," the man explained, "It's a jail, really. This is where we hold suspected criminals until they have their trial."

"Suspected criminals?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"But I didn't do anything!"

"No?"

"Ignore 'im Diddy." DK's voice came from the doorway, "Now let's go!"

"Hmm, sorry," Diddy frowned, "Not much I can do for ya right now. We'll have to figure it out later I guess."

"Later? But I…" Ike's voice cracked, and Diddy patted him on the shoulder,

"We'll talk later kid," he said comfortingly, "Get some rest, hmm?"

He stepped outside and DK slammed the heavy door shut. Ike heard a lock click into place.

He was alone all over again.

* * *

"What d'ya mean you haven't seen him?" the young man's tanned face was creased with worry, "He hasn't returned yet?"

"No, sir" the man behind the counter shook his head, "He not come here today."

The young man, known by his friends as "Pika", leaned back against the counter, resting his head in his hands. What on Earth was keeping him?

That morning, his best friend Ike had insisted on splitting up for a while. Pika had gone to the town marketplace, and Ike had headed for the boonies on the edge of town. Pika hadn't really wanted to separate – bad things could happen in backwater towns like this, especially for a tourist in a foreign country, but Ike had insisted, and Pika had given in, convinced by his buddy that nothing would go wrong.

And now Ike was missing.

They had agreed to meet each other back at the hotel at exactly 1100 hours, to have lunch together. But lunch had come and gone, and now it was well past 8pm and Ike still hadn't shown up. Pika had searched the city as well as the town's edges thoroughly, but he hadn't been able to find his friend, and it was growing late.

The hotel manager and staff had been told to keep a sharp lookout, and Pika was growing tired. However, if there was one thing the youth wasn't, it was a quitter. He wouldn't stop looking until he discovered the whereabouts of his friend.

"I'm going out again," he told the man behind the counter, who simply nodded.

"Yes sir," he said, "I wait for you here. I tell you if he come."

"Thanks," Pika managed a smile and left the building.

He was still amazed that he hadn't been able to find Ike yet. Of all the cities and towns in the country, they had deliberately chosen one of the smallest, least visited towns on the map. They had figured that this town, with its population of less than 20 000, and only two gas stations and one bank, would be the least likely place for them to get into trouble, as well as one of the best places to truly experience the culture. The country capital had over a million people, and looked more or less like North America.

"_What's the point of going there?" _Ike had said, _"We might as well never leave home."_ And Pika had agreed with him. But now, having been in the country less than a week, he was beginning to wonder if they had made a good choice.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, ignoring the funny looks he got, as he walked down the near-empty streets. He was used to such looks – both his hair colour and complexion were oddities here, and sometimes even where he was from as well. His skin was naturally browner than most, giving him sort of a Californian look, though he wasn't from there originally. His hair was a blonde colour, but very much so; in fact, it was really too blonde to be called anything but yellow. It had been dyed a dark brown at the very tips, and hung down to about his waist. He usually wore it in a long ponytail, and it always appeared spiky, though he told everyone he didn't gel it. He was truly a unique looking young man.

"Excuse me?" He pulled over a local, "Can you help me?" The woman blinked, and began chattering in the language often heard in these parts – Pika had heard it called Amharic – until she seemed to realize that she wasn't being understood.

"…you speak Engleesh?" she asked, with a look that showed she didn't speak much herself. Pika nodded his head,

"Yup. Do you?"

"Leetle beet." She did seem to understand him, though she was dragging out her i's, "Need help?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm looking for a friend. Wonder if you've seen him?"

"Look like?"

"He's about my height," Pika bit his lip, thinking, "Short blue hair… white skin, whiter than mine I mean…" He really didn't know what else he could say. "You seen him?"

"Bluu 'air?" the woman laughed, but didn't answer his question.

"So…you haven't seen him then?" Pika's patience with this place was already being stretched, he didn't need this right now. The woman shook her head,

"No. Sorry." And with that she walked away.

Pika had expected no less really, but still he was disappointed and tried to keep himself hopeful as he continued down the dirt road. Typically, he was the optimistic one of the two; Ike being the first to give up and the last to agree in most situations. Of course, Pika was also more laidback than Ike, but more troublesome… really, they completed each other.

"Hey, kid!" Pika heard a call from behind him, and he glanced up to see a man in a black suit standing a ways off on the side of the road, He was clutching a black briefcase, and seemed to be in a hurry. "C'mere!"

Pika looked around before he answered, wondering if he was the subject of the man's attentions.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you." The man rolled his eyes, "Yellow-head. Get your butt over here."

The boy walked over to him, "What's up?"

"Well…" the man looked him in the eyes, and Pika was surprised to see the colour of them; orange."I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard that you're looking for a friend?"

"…yeah, so?" Pika was instantly suspicious, "What's it to you?"

"You're not from around here, are you kid?" The man flashed a grin, "Traveling?"

"Why's it matter?"

"Good grief why is everyone so dang suspicious around here?" the man rolled his eyes again, and pulled a small card out from his shirt pocket, "Lucario Ruka, ambassador of the Canadian Embassy here in the country. Pleased to meet you and all that."

Pika glanced at the card in his hand, which told him nothing but what this man had just.

"Canadian Embassy hunh?" he found himself smiling, "That's convenient."

"So you _are_ in trouble then?" Lucario raised an eyebrow.

"You could say that."

"Walk with me."

The two began down the street, and Pika had a better chance to study the strange man. His angled orange eyes were not the only thing that set this man apart from the others Pika had seen in this country – he had jet black hair that was pulled into odd loops behind his ears. Undone, it was likely to reach down to the middle of his back at least. Probably the first guy Pika had ever seen with hair as long as his own.

"So I'm going to assume you're Canadian?" Lucario was on topic, and Pika nodded his head to clear his thoughts,

"Yes sir," he said quickly, "Barrie, actually."

"Barrie… Ontario?"

"That's it."

"Okay, great." Lucario nodded, "I'm from around there myself."

"Oh cool."

"So, anyhow, what's up with your friend here?"

"He's gone." Pika bit his lip again, an annoying habit of his, "He went out on his own this morning, to the edge of town, and I haven't seen him since. He was supposed to meet me back at the hotel hours ago."

"Hmm… and you suspect foul play?"

"I don't know what I suspect." Pika replied honestly, "I'm just worried, I guess. It's not like Ike to … well, vanish. That's more my thing."

"Alright then," Lucario stopped in front of a mid-sized stone building, "It's a good thing I ran into you. If anyone out there's gonna help you, it's gonna be me. I've got good connections in this town, and the country itself. I should be able to get any info that's available to get."

"Really?" Pika smiled, "That's great, thanks!"

Lucario smiled, slapping the youth on the back,

"Happy to help, Yellow-head, happy to help. Now let's see what we can do for your friend, hmm?"


	2. From Bad to Worse

"TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW!" The big man's fist slammed into the metal table, and Ike instinctively flinched back.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about!" He said for what felt like the trillionth time that evening, "Really!" He was fighting tears, and DK snarled at him. Behind the cop, Diddy Kong looked on with sad eyes, his head shaking back and forth in disapproval.

They were doing the typical "good cop, bad cop" routine Ike had often seen on TV; and so far it was working pretty well. Ike was scared to death of DK, and his appreciation for Diddy was growing every second.

They had left him in the small cell for about three hours before returning only to bring him to another small room, completely made of metal, and cuff his wrists to a table, trapping him in a chair while DK yelled at and threatened him. Ike couldn't believe this was going on, and they wouldn't listen to a word he had to say. He pressed himself into the chair, the metal biting into his back, trying to get as far from DK as he possibly could.

"Please, Mr. Greil," Diddy came around from his place behind the bigger man, "just tell us what you know and you can go back to your cell." He smiled at Ike, much more comforting than his partner. He was supposed to be the nice one; the one Ike 'fessed up' to. If only he had something to confess…

"Back?" The teen was confused. Confused and scared. What was he _doing_ here? "I don't wanna go back!" His voice cracked, and he blinked away more tears, staring into Diddy's eyes pleadingly, "I want to go _home_!"

Diddy's face was full of pity, "Just tell us what happened, Mr. Greil," he said softly, "And we'll do our best."

Ike shook his head, "Why won't you listen? I don't know what you're-"

"LIES!" DK's angry shout roared through the room, shattering what was left of Ike's disposition, "ALL LIES! NOW TELL US THE TRUTH GREIL, OR SO HELP ME…" he trailed off, leaning in so close to Ike's face that the teen couldn't pull back anymore, "**Now**."

Ike let out an involuntary whimper, and he swallowed hard. It was all he could do to keep breathing as the big man's glare held him frozen to the spot. And suddenly, he wasn't afraid anymore. No, not afraid – he was terrified. He was finally starting to realize how serious this all was. Whatever he was suspected of doing – it wasn't child's play. This was bad.

"Give 'im a break, DK," Diddy pulled at DK's arm, "you're scaring him."

The big man moved out of the way, if not reluctantly, "Good," he spat, "he should be scared – he's a criminal."

"No I'm not!" Ike shouted, surprising even himself with the strength in his voice, "I haven't done anything wrong!" DK looked unconvinced.

"You know," he said, his voice lowering, "I've been being pretty nice so far, kid,"

Diddy gulped, and stepped in front of his friend again, "Let's not do anything hast, DK…" but the big man cut him off,

"Not now li'l buddy," he said, and Ike could sense tenderness in his voice, which vanished in his next sentence as he leaned back down in Ike's face, "I don't _have_ to be so nice." Ike swallowed again, and DK glared at him. The boy was pressed up to the back of the chair, as far from the cop as his restraints would allow him to be. He had never been so afraid in his life – was this man serious? Was this really his _nice side_?

"Aww, D, give it a rest!" Diddy reached forward and placed a hand on Ike's shoulder, "You're gonna scare him to death."

Though DK's face showed that this didn't really concern him, he stepped back and allowed Diddy to take over.

"It's alright if you don't want to talk about it right away, Mr. Greil," he told the boy kindly, "We can try again when you're feeling better, okay? Just take your time."

"T-take my…?" Ike repeated, emotions mixing, "but I don't know _anything_!"

Diddy nodded, "Just take your time." He said again, and before Ike had a chance to say anything the two officers were out the door. It clicked shut behind them, and he heard a dead bolt slide across it. The lights inside the room went dim, and Ike found himself trapped and alone all over again.

"H-hey!" he called out as soon as he realized they weren't coming back. "Where'd you- you can't just leave me in here!" However, his cries went unheard, bouncing off the gray walls and coming back to him, mocking the desperation in his voice. The room, he realized, was sound-proof; they couldn't hear a thing. Somehow, this was less than comforting.

Ike made to stand, but fell back into his seat when he remembered the cuffs on his wrists, keeping him locked in place and barely able to move. He closed his eyes as a sudden chill went down his spine – everything about this place screamed "prison" – the metal chair and table the only furniture in the room, both bolted to the metal floor… he felt as if he were locked inside of a giant metal box. The entire room was gray, and set the perfect mood for such sessions as he had just experienced. Ike figured the room was meant for that alone – it was just big enough to hold the table and a few other people, not much bigger than his closet at home. All of this only served to remind the teen of the terrible situation he was in, and he screwed his eyes shut tighter to block it out.

He tried pulling against the cuffs, but only a few violent tugs proved the impossibility of his efforts, and he quickly gave up. His wrists ached, and he knew that pulling on them much longer would draw blood, and he didn't need that. Sighing to himself, Ike opened his eyes and leaned back against the metal chair, resigning himself to fate.

* * *

"This is _ridiculous_." Pika glared at the huge amount of paperwork sitting on the innkeeper's desk. "Where did this all come from?"

"Your long-haired friend dropped it off this morning." The inn manager shrugged his shoulders, "I really have no idea what it all is, but he told me to deliver it to you. So here it is." He lifted the papers from the desk with ease and tossed them in Pika's general direction. The teen jumped to grab the stack, nearly falling over at the impact.

"Shoot, that's a lot of papers!" he growled under the added weight before balancing them out under his arm, "And Lucario said I had to fill out them _all_?"

The manager nodded, "Yup, pretty much."

"Oh good grief." Pika sank into a nearby breakfast table, pulling out a pencil stub from his jean pocket and dropping the heap in front of him, "Ike had better appreciate this…" he grumbled to himself, and the manager smiled,

"I'm sure he'd be very glad for it."

Pika wasted no more time in delving into his work, and the manager turned back to his own. All was silent in the little lobby for a little while, until Pika came across a bit of a problem.

"Uh, sir?" The teen realized he didn't know the manager's name, but resolved to find it out later. The man looked up from what he was doing and walked over to Pika's side.

"Yes?" His expression remained neutral as Pika held out the paper to him, "What's the problem?"

"This one's in Amharic," Pika explained, "I… don't actually speak this language."

"I see." The manager managed a bit of a smile, "Would you like some help with that then?"

Figuring the man could translate for him, Pika beamed up at him, "That would be awesome!"

The manager glanced behind him at his desk, a wistful look on his face for only a split second before he turned back to Pika and sat across from him. "Let's do this."

A good twenty minutes later, the entire form was filled out – in Amharic no less – and Pika had made himself a new friend. The inn manager – who had told Pika to call him Mr. GAW – was a citizen of this country, though he had been born in America. His skin, darker than most, was completely black, as well were his eyes and short hair. He said that this came from his father's side of the family, and Pika left it at that. He really was a nice fellow, and seemed truly interested in helping the teen locate his friend.

"I have connections all over this old town," he told Pika proudly, "If your Ike is anywhere around here, I'll be able to locate him."

"Oh, thank you!" Pika nearly leapt up and hugged the man for this comment, but managed to control himself and settled for grasping his hand. He had made yet another ally – things were going much smoother than he had thought they would.

_Now to finish all this darned paperwork…_


End file.
